


We're Good

by witblogi



Series: Things Because of Reasons [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witblogi/pseuds/witblogi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when you least expect it, reality seeps in and your werewolf boyfriend is worried about bad breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Good

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I have too many weird scenarios in my head where there is a lull in the supernatural for like ten, fifteen minutes at a time and stuff like this happens. 
> 
> Once again, written in present tense because that's how I roll apparently.

Derek tastes like spearmint. Stiles groans, he never thought about what he’d taste like before, and if anything it’d be salty like sweat or beef jerky or something and not this, this sweet bite over his tongue. And it matches him too, the colour of his eyes is _totally_ spearmint now that Stiles is thinking about it- 

“What.” Derek has pulled back from his mouth - making Stiles gape and grasp, feeling like a fish put out of pleasantly minty waters. He rubs his tongue over the top of his mouth and laments the lack of cool clean tastes there. 

“What?” Stiles parrots back, they were kissing - _awesomely_ \- one minute and now this, with the pointy eyebrows and the flaring nostrils of _I don’t understand how you exist Stiles._

“You’re thinking about something.” Derek makes it sound like using his words is physically killing him. His face is half shadowed in the dark of Stiles’ bedroom, and it makes him wish perhaps they had the time and space to do this in the day time, in full streaming sunlight, glorious technicolor and surround sound. But no, instead he gets clandestine meetings in his bedroom while his father is working drug-busts and shoplifting cases, stolen moments in shadows with a creature of the night. His life is a supernatural gay harlequin romance honestly.

“I usually am thinking, that’s kind of how humans roll, you see-” 

Derek’s hand moves from its previous perch on his waist to clamp across his mouth. If his mouth tasted strongly of spearmint his hands are doubly so in smell as he takes a deep breath through his nose. 

“ _What_ were you thinking about.” Derek’s other hand falls slightly, to grip his hip, sweeping his thumb up under Stiles’ shirt and making him shiver slightly before releasing his mouth.

“Spearmint.” Stiles blurts suddenly, “You taste like spearmint. I don’t know if that’s a natural werewolfy thing or what but I kind of doubt it considering Scott always seems to smell like something that is seriously _not mint_.” 

Derek gives him a look, like he has no idea what the fuck Stiles is talking about, like he’s trying to wither him where he stands - but hey, Stiles didn’t get to know what the inside of the guy’s mouth tastes like by being afraid of glares. 

“No seriously it’s like I dunno nachos that are really really off or something.” he tries again, to explain the phenomena that is Scott, flop socks and Star Wars bedsheets - or at least that was the Scott in his head, the _real_ Scott.

“The smell of Scott is not relevant right now.” Derek grits out and Stiles bops his head in agreement, still vaguely musing on it, but then gets another whiff of minty freshness and remembers the original reason they stopped enthusiastically swapping saliva. 

“So why do you taste like spearmint?” he wets his lips a little after, making sure he hadn’t been hallucinating and the taste was still clinging there, “No complaints just-” he makes a vague rolling motion with one hand, realizing how oddly he and Derek are standing, intimately close together, Derek’s hands keeping him in place where his glare fails to do so. 

Although the glare is currently suspiciously absent, Derek even goes so far as to duck his head slightly, eyes downcast, lashes creating dark fans over his cheeks. He looks adorable, Stiles is doomed. The moment is gone as soon as Stiles starts having vivid fantasies about stroking his hands through soft dark hair and peppering his face with the kind of loving puppy kisses he knows Derek is probably bound to hate.

“I ate some mint earlier.” he says it with side eyes, the kind of side eyes that Stiles knows means Derek is trying to be casual, trying to pawn something off right under his nose. It will never work though, Derek is _never_ casual, there’s always a defensive tension about him, his baseline is _non-o-ya-business._

“You just happened to eat some mint.” Stiles repeats cautiously, no one ever unintentionally eats mint. In its raw form it’s kind of weirdly tart-sweet, there is always a reason for that. Maybe if it hadn’t been overwhelming, the taste and smell all over him, Stiles would have been able to let it go, maybe he snagged a leaf to chew on while hopping Mrs. Delaware’s fence next door - he knows she has a small herb garden. Instead here they are _not_ making out in the precious few moments they can actually mange to find together but Derek is being weird about it. 

The hands extricate themselves from his person and Stiles suddenly regrets all of his life decisions as Derek takes a large step back, leaning against the frame of Stiles’ window. 

“I’m not complaining!” he rushes to fill what is sure to become an awkward brooding silence if left up to Derek, “Seriously not, it’s just...different?” 

“Weird.” Derek supplies and Stiles nods enthusiastically before stopping that abruptly when Derek’s look darkens even further, jaw tensing. 

“ _You’re_ not weird.” He assures, “Well no, you are, you totally are, but-” Stiles is really stuffing it up right now, he can feel it, his metaphorical arms pinwheeling, “I dig it?” he gives in to awkwardly scratch the back of his head. Derek huffs, and Stiles is sure somewhere in the corners of his mind he’s looking at his life wondering where it all went so wrong, how did he end up in the bedroom of a gawky seventeen year old who can’t even pull off a half assed booty call with any sort of aplomb.

“I like you weird, and creepy, and grumpy and- just- what are you doing with your face right now! Stop.” Stiles swallows, stricken, as Derek glares at him, the tilt of his eyebrows threatening somehow, hunch of his shoulders defensive, ears reddening - wait. 

“Are you embarrassed?” He asks dumbstruck, tension flowing out of him as he lets his arms go limp at his sides. Derek is totally embarrassed and trying not to let on right now, Stiles really wishes he had super hearing sometimes, or maybe the smell thing Scott talks about sometimes - what does embarrassment smell like, Stiles has a feeling it’s probably whiffy and a tad like ammonia. So, he could really do with a few supernatural cues as to what is going through Derek’s mind right now, considering he gets to be the wide open thirteen year old girl’s diary all the time. 

“I’m not-” Derek looks down at his legs, his shoes, words are painful. “This isn’t something I do...often.” 

Stiles assumes he isn’t talking about the spearmint rubdown, so it’s just the two of them then, their thing, their...relationship. 

Are they really _in_ a relationship? Stiles thinks, it hasn’t been long, just a few furtive frenzied gropings in his jeep and some serious eye fucking during pack meetings. Really what they’ve been, what they’re doing hasn’t been around for long, or at least hasn’t been mutually acknowledged for long. It’s tentative and confusing and exhilarating and all of those things make Stiles mostly just really sympathetic to Scott’s initial Allison phase - but clearly it’s throwing Derek off his game something fierce. 

“I...didn’t think it was?” Stiles offers, wincing when Derek glares at him properly, “Not saying that you _couldn’t_ , I mean, dude I spent the majority of the summer wondering how many, who, _what_ you’d done _where, how...”_ He trailed off distracted for a moment by his own thoughts all Derek wrapped around other sinfully attractive tattooed supernatural beings much better suited for him than Stiles. 

“Stiles.” 

“Right, I mean, you could, you totally could, I just figured you were probably busy, you know in reality dealing with...things.” he leaves it at that, knowing that sometimes it was easier to be vague than to try to brush off matters with pretend casualness. Derek had been, is in mourning, he gets that, Stiles sobers for a moment, he _so_ gets that. 

Derek continues staring at him like he’s waiting for the point of this conversation, like he isn’t the one totally drowning in his own inadequacies (but seriously what inadequacies he’s _Derek_ ). 

“I don’t _care_ if you’re weird or rusty or minty.” Stiles says finally, “I like you like you are, all awkward and non verbal and full of tangles.”

“Tangles.” Derek repeats, eyebrows climbing. 

“Shut up you’re the one having self esteem issues here.” Stiles steps back into his space, poking him solidly in the chest with one finger. Derek looks down at it, resting against his chest and Stiles is sorely tempted to snap up at his chin, but he’s seventeen he’s practically an adult, and besides he did that to Scott last week and it’s a brotherly thing not a ...boyfriendly thing. Stiles puckers his mouth, boyfriends is not a term he thinks he can apply to what Derek and he are. 

“I just want...” Derek grates out, chin jutting back up, although he’s avoiding Stiles’ gaze for the posters and other adolescent riffraff adorning his walls, “to be good.” 

Stiles waits, but there’s nothing else coming out, and eventually Derek looks at him annoyed, like the silence is his fault, and he supposes it is really with the way conversations work back and forth, you talk I talk kind of deal. 

“Good.” He rolls the word around in his head, “You want to be good...at this?” He gestures between them, “Or good in moral terms, like a white robe blue lightsaber Jedi,” he pauses for a moment and then leers, “Or good like good little boys get a treat kind of good.” 

Derek furrows his brows slightly. 

“Just _good_.” he reaches out and tugs at one of Stiles’ belt loops, it’s not particularly sexual, just kind of comforting, a weirdly non-intimate intimacy, pulling the material away from one hipbone enough to just raise goosebumps over the slightly exposed skin there.

“Just good. Okay, Just good Derek.” Stiles leans forward, and catches another waft of spearmint, “Good is minty, minty is good.” 

“It’s stupid.” Derek mutters darkly but Stiles is already crowding into his space, inhaling deeply and letting his eyes fall half closed - he probably looks moronic and stoned and couldn’t care less. 

“It’s good. You’re good, _we’re_ good.” he sinks into kissing Derek, and sometimes, like now, he can’t get over how weird kissing is, pressing your mouth to another persons, all hot spearmint breath and hard sharp teeth just beyond soft lips. It changes quickly though, with responding kisses, it gets less about the anatomy and more about the swoopy feelings in his chest stomach region. 

“I like good.” He says into Derek’s mouth, and Derek pulls back slightly annoyed, he doesn’t like it when Stiles does that, tries to use his mouth for more than one thing at a time, “I like you.” 

Derek holds his jaw firmly with one hand, its previous location had been around the back of his neck, and now it was keeping his mouth still. 

“Stiles.” He looks like he wants to shake him just a little, like a misbehaving puppy, “We’re done now.” he says firmly and then pauses, “We’re _good_.” 

Stiles’ insides lurch again like he’s been smacked a particularly good kiss. Ugh, Derek’s joking with him, teasing him. 

“We’re _so_ good.” Stiles flails out then, roping long limbs around Derek’s stupid bulky shoulders and reeling him in for as long as those stupid shoplifters can take. The stumble further into the room over tennis shoes and lacrosse gear, a can of silly string skittering away from their shuffling feet, collapsing together onto Stiles’ tiny bed and unwashed sheets it’s all just...good.


End file.
